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12/05/2003 Archived Entry: "DRESSING IN THE DARK"

DRESSING IN THE DARK

I started the day early and was in a bit of a rush as I had so much to do. I slid in and out of the shower, into some slacks and my Arran sweater and stuck my feet into a pair of shoes. This will work, I thought.

I blogged a bit, as you noticed from all the mistakes, checked my mail, wrote a couple notes and generally was multi-tasking before heading out to Salina. I wanted to make a quick call before I left so, as I talked, I did a 180 in my chair so I could see where the sun was and what to expect from the day. Glancing down, I noticed something seemed to be askew with the sun as my shoes didn't look right. One had a dark shadow on it while the other didn't. Odd, I thought. I turned my shoes outward and realized the soles didn't match. Not even close. Alas! One black shoe, one brown shoe. Geezzzzzzzzzz.

On my way to the closet to change, I paraded in front of Brit. When I get out of my jeans-sweat-shirt uniform sometime I ask..."Do I look okay?" (That's a long story, but back in my skinny days he always liked to take me to buy my clothes...his taste is better than mine and he was always freer with his money.) Anyway, he glanced at my hair (that's where he always starts his glancing and reminds me if it is getting too long. I think he was always afraid I'd adopt a hair style at 30 and stick with it no matter what and look like Margaret Mead or Mamie Eisenhower with a Danish on my head at 70)) and gradually worked his way down, past the sweater (commented he had one just like it) and slacks (I like 'em, he says) then his eyes fell on the mismatched shoes. He doubled up with laughter and slid off his chair onto the floor in a heap. Collecting himself, he said..."Well, as you are waiting in the doctor's office, everyone will notice that you own two pair of shoes!".

Usually I sit and wait for this particular doctor for HOURS and the room is packed with screaming kids and antsy adults. Today I barely sat down and they called me. I would have be horrified had I not noticed my shoes until then. Geez...I gotta remember to turn the closet light on after this.

Clothes just don't matter much...in fact, the less I pay for something the more it means to me. Then I think...maybe I'll spill something on this and won't be able to replace it for that amount of money. And I hate thinking about the amount of money I once spent on clothes...well, I sort of needed them at the time. I've always preferred having a sharp stick in my eye rather than go shopping. Like the college professor son of one of my good friends said to me...your epitaph will read, "Peg was never overdressed!". He claims he's never seen me in anything but shorts, jeans, tees or sweatshirts. Yea for me!